A Parmenides García Saldaña, Armando Vega-Gil, Alejandro Jodorowsky and of course Carlos Salinas de Gortari.
Miss Amanda Jones foreshadows among the favorite songs of the stale, ominous, brainy and Roling Walker Street 8, never actually lived there in the wake of the roof of the room with a bath he had borrowed to be settlers, write, I go up to the picot of the Stones song and no one said anything, not even you put a blow to the temples when I walked on drugs, the last refuge of calamity existenciosa.
January 14, 2010.
"I drugged so much that sometimes I feel like my legs are shaking and your heart breaks for those evenings when I have not for a joint of marijuana. Sometimes I suffer spasms of sensitivity to what I write, to what I paint what I live now, sometimes I feel total repudiation of institutional forms and shapes, fuck your motives, your changes of course, your silence and your leaving, your obsessions by cannibals in trace. "
... The Instead of always necessary is covered by the other, moreover, raised prices and the reality is dark, grim and hopeless on the streets mesmerized hordes of walking, walking to the right without looking and know that they there, keep it up and see how they pass a steamroller of 300 kilos and even going to give thanks, thanks. I'll
Street 8.
December 14, 2008
"The invisible Numeralia hidden behind the two circles of infinite number, perfect number, the number of beauty" You opened
fast, got off without walking.
"Here we are, upload to Hot Stuff -
We could talk about anything: from the soft country, to Warhol, of course, the Stones, the wanderer in psychedelic low conscupiscencias abstract circuits of today, the future Do future for me, the past summer night I held my nap nap on the tic-tac that filled my chest and soon had the nerve to end the beating tic-tac tic-tac .
Photo: Alfonso Bon Caligari
- I do not see how, there are many, many ways, many colors, the distance seems uncertain, the course, the way the pocket destragado as when you take these Bart-faced tablets Simpson and do not make breakfast ... Sigh ... You: Sigh-
Me Why teacher?.
"You do not guey; andale you do ... just imagine you have different pieces in a fabric, paint one by one and you realize you really do not fit after 15 days of painting-drying-paint-drying-paint there are faces, arms, some bonds that are not such as shell pieces are not the same egg broke, and the infinite is the search, the loss, small-time justice in the life-
The horrors seem to go on, the laughter, grimaces and gestures of surprise the eternal match to learn step by step, without turning his face and slap him, just take her up and throw the dwarf sea insult your freedom ... Everything is uncertain, I prefer to take a bus to hell. Bone -...
within the shadows, the pale corners of the rottenness of the self, is the journey to the subconscious infarcts tied to a bed, unable to breathe, "
Cause if you really think you CAN push I'm going to
it bust your knees with a bullet
Your crazy mama, ah yeah
The only thing I can think is ...
"Give me the job ... "I Want to Kill Salinas de Gortari"
Texts Compiler Death of Alfonso
Bon Caligari Influence PodCast
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